Rudolph Zellwood had risen from his chair. He was strolling to the rear of the car. He paused there, apparently about to remove a magazine from the shelf; then changed his mind. He went on back through the passage.
“Give him time, Ox,” growled the man who was watching. “Remember, Greaser was watchin’ this guy when he got on the train. Heard him give the berth number to the porter. Lower six. It’s a while yet into Baltimore. We’ll let him get settled.”
“Okay, Jake.”
Harry Vincent had watched Zellwood leave the car. The Shadow’s agent was also planning to wait until Zellwood settled. Then Harry intended to look up the conductor and arrange for a berth in car 3 D.
Minutes passed while the train whistled on through the dark. The Limited was rapidly nearing Baltimore.
THE club car porter was approaching the table where the card players sat. Jake spoke to him, in a tone that Harry heard. The growl denoted displeasure.
“Say — where’s the conductor?” demanded Jake. “Don’t he ever come up this way?”
“Liable to be heah any minute, sah.”
“Any minute won’t do. He’s got a ten spot of mine an’ I’m waitin’ for the change. We’re gettin’ off at Baltimore. There ain’t much time left.”
“He’ll be heah sure, sah.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I’m goin’ to take a look for him.”
Jake arose. Ox followed suit. Talking together, the two men started through the car. Harry watched them, half-suspiciously. Then he remembered Jake’s statement that they were getting off at Baltimore; he noted the bags that lay as mute evidence that the men had no berths in any sleeping car. Harry decided to wait for several minutes longer. He figured the conductor would soon be forward.
It was good reasoning on Harry’s part; particularly because he did not want Zellwood to know that he was taking a berth in car 3 D. But The Shadow’s agent was soon to learn that he had made a grave mistake. While he was lingering, his suspicions of the two men lulled, crime was in the making aboard the Southern Limited.
Jake and Ox had passed through two cars on their way rearward. On the platform of the third, Jake drew his companion into the vestibule to let the conductor pass. He was going forward. Jake did not speak to him. He drew Ox on into the next car.
“See how these berths are made up?” whispered Jake, as he pointed to the side walls of silent green curtains. “With the end berths open?”
Ox nodded.
“That’s the way 3 D will be,” added Jake. “These trains are travelin’ light. The porters don’t make up the end berths unless they have to. The conductor’s out of our way — 3 D is the next car. I’ll manage the porter.”
Ox nodded again. They had reached the end of the car. As they stepped through the rattling vestibules, Jake drew a shining object from his pocket; then let it slip back. It was a key of the sort that porters use to unlock upper berths.
They reached 3 D. They encountered the porter. Jake beckoned the fellow into the passage.
“We’re ridin’ down to Carolina,” said Jake. “Want a couple of berths in this car.”
“You got to see the conductah, sah.”
“I know it. We saw him. He’s coming back in a few minutes. We’ll be in the smoking compartment. But we’ve got a couple of bags up in the club car — see? Along by the card table. Here’s half a buck — go up an’ get ‘em for us.”
“Yes, sah.”
The porter started on his way. As soon as he was gone, Jake motioned to Ox. The car was clear; conductor and porter both out of range. Jake produced the key from his pocket.
“Wait’ll I pull down one of those end berths,” he whispered. “If anybody hears it, they’ll think it’s the porter.”
Stepping up on a seat, he unlocked the berth and brought it down with as little clatter as possible. In the aisle, he motioned to Ox. The man drew a blackjack from his pocket. They moved on lower six.
Jake twisted one of the lower buttons of the curtain. It unfastened. He performed the same operation on the second, working through the cloth. With a quick move, he whisked the curtain aside.
Rudolph Zellwood was rising in his berth. Jake shot two paws swiftly forward, aiming for the man’s throat. A suppressed gargle came from the cashier’s lips. As the man writhed, Jake twisted his body forward, head out toward the aisle.
As the back of Zellwood’s head came into view, Ox saw his opening. He delivered a savage blow with the blackjack. Zellwood slumped in Jake’s arms. That single stroke had been a killing one. The thugs had worked to precision.
It was the same system that they had used in slaying Sigby Rund. Choking hands — Jake’s — to prevent an outcry. A murderous blow — Ox’s — to end all struggle. In response to Jake’s growl, Ox grabbed Zellwood’s feet. The two gorillas lifted the man’s body into the aisle. Six quick steps and they had reached the end section.
Together they hoisted Zellwood’s body into the upper berth that Jake had brought down. Pushing up, Jake started the berth back into place. With Zellwood’s weight added, the berth resisted. Ox lent a hand.
The berth clattered into position and locked.
Thirty seconds later, the killers were seated in the hitherto deserted smoking compartment. They had made little noise in murdering Zellwood. As Jake had predicted, any berth occupant who might have heard the lowering of the upper had probably attributed the noise to the porter.
Zellwood had been in pajamas when the killers encountered him. Ox mentioned this fact to Jake as they lighted cigarettes in the smoking compartment. Jake shrugged his shoulders.
“That don’t matter,” he said. “What if they do find his clothes an’ bag there in the bunk? It won’t be ‘til mornin’. They gotta find the body some time, don’t they?”
MEANWHILE, in the club car, Harry Vincent was arranging for a lower berth in car 3 D. He remarked that he had intended to change in Washington, not knowing that there was a car on the train that would take him to his Carolina destination. The conductor made the space arrangement on the chart.
It was while Harry was talking to the conductor that the porter from 3 D arrived for the bags. Harry saw him, pick them up. His half-formed suspicions were restored. Taking his own bag, Harry followed along to see which car would be the porter’s destination.
The train was rolling into Baltimore. Despite the slackened pace, the twisting in the yards made walking difficult. The train had nearly reached the depot when the porter and Harry reached car 3 D. Harry saw the porter go into the smoking compartment. He moved along to his own berth, dropped his bag and came back to the passage.
There he saw the two men, bags in hand. Jake was arguing with the porter, who stood somewhat bewildered.
“We changed our minds,” said Jake. “Thought maybe we was goin’ on, but talked it over an’ decided different. Here’s another half buck for your trouble.”
“All right, sah.”
The train had stopped. The porter hurried ahead to raise the platform by the steps. Harry followed. He arrived in the vestibule just as the two men were alighting.
Passengers were getting on. Harry brushed by them to reach the station platform. He watched Jake and Ox start away from the car. Ox turned to glance over his shoulder. He saw Jake grab his arm; he heard Jake’s growclass="underline"
“Come along, Ox.”
As the two men walked rapidly away, Harry pondered. His full suspicions were aroused. He felt that the men might be enemies of Rudolph Zellwood. Yet Harry could not see how they could have accomplished any harm in so short an interval. He did not realize that a considerable time had elapsed between their departure from the club car and the arrival in Baltimore.
Ox. The name persisted in Harry’s mind. Not having been on duty with Cliff, Harry did not know the names of the two gangsters for whom the other agent had been searching. He intended, however, to remember that name. As for the faces of the ruffians, Harry knew that he could give an excellent verbal description of them. He decided to forward a written report from Washington.